


On Guard of Maine

by Kokoa_Lana



Category: Original Work
Genre: Annoying blogger, Cool cop with a cool cat, Fuck COVID-19, Gen, Maine Coon, Quarantine, State Maine, Steven King is envious, Translation in English, i'm not a native speaker plz correct me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:46:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24116746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kokoa_Lana/pseuds/Kokoa_Lana
Summary: COVID-19 is fucking up our lives, but Maine has a special guard.
Kudos: 1





	On Guard of Maine

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [На страже штата Мэн](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/618598) by Smalllynx. 



> This is a translation, one of my first works, and i'm not really good at it. So please correct me if you can.

_Dedicated to the maine coons, who stole my heart…_

  
  


Rowdy blogger Kermit Marlow who made himself a name on the most hyped and spot-on topics, always gets down to business quite confidently. There is no power in the world that could possibly stop him.  
  
But now he gets real jitters. Maine’s border is in two miles from here. And not that he has real problems to worry about. But syrupy-sweet fear in the guts does not let go.  
  
He has enough fuel. Loaded gun in the jockey box transmits waves of confidence and calmness. Papers are perfectly fine.  
  
But something clearly is going wrong.  
  
Kermit turns the radio on max and catches the snippet of the radio wave. “Coming up next – Level of Concern by Twenty-One Pilots. And what are you up to during quarantine?”.  
  
He planned on crossing Piscataqua river over the Memorial Bridge and go from Portsmouth, New Hampshire, to Kittery, Maine, and from there head to Portland. There are two things that are so intriguing for him in Maine: famous lobsters and WHO’s report on coronavirus. His blog needs some shake-up, latest news, with the slightest tinge of scandal, if possible. And Marlow is certain that he found what he had been looking for. One and a half billion of population in Maine couldn’t possibly have few times less morbidity than New York City which is six times bigger. Of course there are smartasses who explain it as the underpopulation, frigid climate and other ‘objective reasons’. But Kermit is sure that the truth is in conscious cover-up of an actual extent of the epidemic. So he went there to prove his point.  
  
It is getting dark, and the weather is getting worse. On the left hand there is the Prescott Park which for Kermit (who is a native resident of the Big Apple) looks like little island of primeval forest.  
  
He suddenly realizes when he started getting nervous. Just as he turned off the Blue Star Turnpike on the Greenland Road. He could keep moving on the 95th and end up in Kittery, but it wouldn’t be so illustrative. To prove the conscious cover-up Kermit needed to compare both cities on the both sides of the border. So he considered Portsmouth the best showcase.  
  
While he was speeding up on Blue Star Turnpike, the weather was fine as was his mood. But as soon as he turned right and drove through 33th, the sun disappeared behind the clouds. Marlow outran neighboring Greyhound. Two kids standing on their seats watched him go, as they saw quite provocative sticker on the door. A picture of his famous namesake, Kermit the Frog, in quite explicitly indecent pose. One could interpret it as one wishes, so it definitely could hype him up. And that’s exactly what he wants. He grinned at kids and stepped on the gas.  
  
When the bus was left behind, Kermit felt the twinge of anxiety. And it got worse when Marlow realized that he was alone on the Greenland Road. 

  
  
  


A cat is sitting on the roadside. No, not ‘a cat’ – _the cat_. One and a half feet at the withers, tough, fixed stare of the almond-shaped yellow eyes from under the frowned brows. Striped raccoon’s tail barely shakes its black tip. Big enough ears as it is look even bigger because of his long and thick tufts.  
  
Kermit swallows hard and reaches for the bottle of water.  
  
He watched out for the cats since childhood. Those fuckers are always hard-headed.  
  
Near the road turn to the bridge, there is a billboard. There is the same cat, with a clever hit of his paw putting down a bat with the ‘COVID-19’ on its wing. The billboard is titled with the slogan: ‘On guard of Maine’.  
  
Marlow pulls over and takes a few pics for his blog. 

  
  
  


Almost immediately on the bridge he meets the guard post.  
  
He has to stop.  
  
The road is closed off with a barrier, near the barrier stand a man in a police uniform and… the cat. Twin brother of the other one he met in a park. Or maybe just that very same.  
  
Except now in a thick fur on a chest glistens under-sheriff’s tin star.  
  
Catching the sight of the car driving up, they both come out of the barrier. The cop strikes a haughty pose, puts his thumbs under the belt, but opened holster makes it clear that he stays alert.  
  
The cat not only gets onto his hind legs but also holds the gun in his paw openly. Small one, precisely fitted for hexadactyle cat’s limb.  
  
The whole picture is a shitshow. But Kermit isn’t questioning his own sanity. He sees what he sees.  
  
Fear and anxiety immediately let go of him. “This is a prank,” realizes Marlow. “How did I end up on one of my peer’s cameras?”  
  
Kermit pays heed to the couple of prankers. He thinks that the cop got awfully ugly mug. He probably should blame it on a scar from the burn that crossed his face. And stony, tough look on it.  
  
But Marlow didn’t drove 230 miles just to get turned back right before his destination. And by whom? Some clown with a trick cat!  
  
He gets out of the car with turned on camera on ready.  
  
The cat’s gaze is hostile. The gun in his paw doesn’t even tremble. Cop’s eyes also are fixed.  
  
Kermit somehow understands that talking to the ‘policeman’ is pointless. It’s more like the cat would answer his question, than unfriendly guy with a probing look in his eyes.  
  
He isn’t wrong,  
  
“Sir… I’m sorry, sir, can I ask the question?” says Kermit cajolingly.  
  
The policeman doesn’t even move. Neither does cat. Only bares his long white fangs in an evil grin. The cat mewls something abruptly. It sounds like “yep”.  
  
“What show are you from? Where’s the spycam?”  
  
“There’s no show,” the policeman comes to life. “We are legal authority. I’m sergeant Jake Wolter, and this is Tom. We are following governor of Maine state, Mr.’s Janet Mills’ directive on quarantine.”  
  
“Legal authority?” Kermit doesn’t believe him.  
  
“Yes, sir.”  
  
“And the cat too?”  
  
“That’s right,” the policeman is completely immovable.  
  
“That’s bullshit.”  
  
“That’s governor of state’s directive,” explains the policeman patiently. “Mr.’s Mills ordered to involve state’s cats in the boundary protection. The best of the best.”  
  
“But why?”  
  
The man and the cat exchange looks as if Kermit just asked them where does the sun go in the evenings. The cop explains: “Scientists have proven that coronavirus originated from bats. Cats also have this virus. If the bats’ virus can infect a person, then the cats’ virus can protect them.”  
  
“How?”  
  
“Cross-protective immunity. Being in permanent contact with cats' virus, the immunity against bats' virus develops.”  
  
“OK,” Kermit agrees and then jumps on again. “Can I get through? Take a look at your “quarantine”?”  
  
“No,” responds the cat. Indisputable and authoritative.  
  
“And why is that?” now he asks the cat directly. It looks more convincing. After all, arguing with the on-duty policeman could be dangerous, and the cat is just a cat. Even an armed one. But the one responding is a man.  
  
“State is closed for entry by external publics. Governor’s directive,” explains the cop again. The cat mewls “yep”, agreeing.  
  
“What does it mean ‘closed’?! I wanna get through and get a story for my blog! We didn’t choose politicians so that they could forbid us from going wherever we want!” Marlow is outraged, and just hops on his favorite topic. “America is free country!”  
  
And then the cop bursts out.  
  
“America is us! Not you, with your blogs and stories. Not your politicians who send me to Iraq and crapped it up. What have I got left from that war? This scar and veteran’s status?” his frustrated eyes bore a hole in Kermit. When he backs off at a sudden aggression, the cop eases up and says wearily. “Go back, son. Hide your camera. Potentially contagious can’t move on.”  
  
“But I’m healthy!” Kermit takes his last shot.  
  
“You _think_ you’re healthy. Incubation period is rather long. If you are sick, but don’t know about it yet, and we let you in, you will bring in the virus and infect our olds. You’re young, you’re most likely to get away with it, but I won’t risk our fathers. _They_ are America.”  
  
“Yep!” the cat mewls again. Loud and clear.  
  
It starts drizzling, every minute it is getting stronger. Kermit hides in his car, the cop puts on a hood of his coat, and cat and the cop step back to the barrier.  
  
Turning around to go back, Marlow thinks that he did get the answer, but even with the recording… no one would believe him. 

  
  
  


When intruder’s parking lights melt into thin air on Islington Street, the cop looks at the cat with a warm smile.  
  
“C’mon, Tom, let’s go take a sip. I’ll spill you a few valerian drops… It was a long day.”  
  
The cat mewls something jingly, as if replying. Jake Walter smiles wider.  
  
“Yeah, you’re right, big-eared. Maybe something stronger. Tomorrow is not our shift.” 


End file.
